


Home Again

by allofthismatters



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, post 4x12, sara lance being a worried and protective disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthismatters/pseuds/allofthismatters
Summary: Sara finally finds Ava after she's been kidnapped and missing in 4x12.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 285





	Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I started writing this way back when we only knew that Ava was missing, then forgot about it forever, and just finished it now; so it's not exactly how things went, but is just a loose exploration of how it could have gone. Mostly, it's just here because I like writing my ships taking care of each other, ok??? :)

Finding Ava felt like one of Sara’s nightmares. 

So far it was all darkened hallways that branched off and never ended, with nothing but dim blue lights that hurt her eyes and made her dizzy. She’d spent years learning to control her emotions no matter the circumstance, but now she can hardly hear her own breath over the blood rushing in her ears. 

She can’t stop turning images over in her head of Ava—hurt, trapped, tortured, starved, weak…dead. Sara has been every one of those things herself at one point or another, but it feels ten times worse imagining any of it happening to Ava. 

She’s spent plenty of time the last two weeks begging herself to believe things never would have worked out between them in the long run, just so losing her wouldn’t hurt so much. She drifted between forced indifference and allowing the crushing heartache to find its way through until she was numb and exhausted by it.

There was no more numbness now—she’s running on pure terror and rage…rage that anyone would do this to the woman she loves, and rage for allowing herself to spend so much time thinking Ava was just too angry to pick up the phone when she was actually god knew where, alone and in trouble, _and how could she let this happen?_

She and John are searching wildly, and all Sara can think about is how fucking _cold_ this place is and how much Ava must hate it.

They open door after door only to find room after empty room, Sara’s stomach getting sicker and her lungs getting tighter until finally, _finally_ , she crashes into John and sees why he’s stopped. The door in front of them is cracked open, light filtering into the hallway. She pushes past him and opens the door with fire in her eyes.

She’s ready to kill anything in her way.

The room is empty besides a figure hunched over in a chair. It’s slumped against the wall, gaunt and freezing, hair plastered across cheeks—

Sara’s flying toward her before either of them can blink. Not a thought in her head of what she might be running into, years of League instincts momentarily abandoned in order to get her hands on Ava before she loses her mind. Sure, she can’t see her face, but she knows her anywhere. 

_There you are._

For a split second, all the adrenaline keeping Sara upright drains at the sight of her…Ava, who she’s spent all day scared to death for and who she’s ached for since the night she told her to get out of her office. _Ava._

Sara kneels in front of her; she can distantly hear herself murmuring nonsense as she clears the wet clumps of hair from the face in front of her. Ava lifts her head and makes only the briefest eye contact before her strength fails her and her chin hits her chest so hard that Sara can hear her teeth clatter. She lifts her face, but finds nothing besides familiar eyes trying and failing to look at her before they fall closed again. 

Sara swears under her breath and feels for her pulse. 

There’s a lot of fumbling as they free her. It’s not lost on Sara the way John tries to help get Ava into her arms at first, and she feels a pang of appreciation for how well he understands her. She wants, needs, _needs_ to make Ava safe herself, needs to feel the strain of her body, but Ava’s so much taller than her and she’s such dead weight that Sara finally relents to rationality and lets John carry her to the ship. 

Sara arrives first, yelling for Gideon, losing words when she realizes she has no idea what Ava needs…what even happened to her, really? All she knows is—

“Gideon, she’s-- Ava’s cold. She’s really cold.” She gets the words out like a scared child as she clears off the chair in the medbay and digs for a bag of fluid in the cabinet.  
John is just behind her and settles Ava’s limp form down while Sara forces her shaking hands to secure the medbay cuff on her wrist. She presses on Ava’s arm until she finds a vein, only vaguely aware that she’s muttering a steady stream of soft words that are half for her girlfriend and half for herself.

“You’re ok, hang on for me. You’re ok.” 

There’s a machine somewhere behind her that’s at least registering a pulse. 

“There you go, keep--don’t go anywhere, babe.”

She gets the IV secured, figuring it can’t hurt. Her eyes frantically scan the medbay screens, lips moving as her clouded mind tries to make sense of it. All she needs is proof of life, and she seems to be in luck. Ava’s heartbeat picks up just the smallest bit, and with it, loosens the vice around Sara's lungs. 

“Ok, that’s my girl….that’s my girl.”   
The words slip out unfiltered, tender, automatic and she fights off the quick stab of hurt that asks, _Are you sure she’s still your girl?_  
There’s panicked anguish bubbling up in her chest, and while now would be an awful time to throw up, Sara feels sick to her stomach. What if she was too late? What if she has to sit here and watch another person she loves die right in front of her eyes? How is she going to survive another loss, _this_ loss—

Gideon mercifully cuts off her spiraling thoughts with what Sara probably could have figured out herself: that Director Sharpe is suffering from severe dehydration and exhaustion…her body temperature is 85 degrees, her pulse is irregular, her blood pressure is nowhere near safe…Sara misses the rest of it as her vision swims and her stomach clenches with nausea. 

“Captain, I’d recommend getting her something warmer. I can fabricate—", Gideon begins.

“Stay with her, Sara, I’ll go get it.” 

Sara startles when she realizes Zari is in the medbay now, just in time for her to hurry out again. She turns back to the chair, dragging and clawing all her emotions back under her control so she doesn’t come apart. Now that she’s got Ava in the light, she looks like death and she's not sure she's ever hated anything more in her life. Sara yanks at the filthy hems of her pantlegs until Ava is free from them, then wrestles her damp undershirt over her head, panic mounting when she can’t pull it free.

_Son of a bitch._

Maybe she’s swearing out loud or maybe it’s just in her head, but she finally gives up and tears at the hem until it rips. 

It’s only a shirt, but it’s thin and wet and smudged with dust and clinging to her already clammy skin. It’s only a shirt, but it feels like a threat and she needs it away from Ava’s body _now_. 

Ava’s always cold. It's one of the first real things Sara remembers knowing about her. She has five undershirts just like this, always folded neatly, one for each work day. More than once, Sara has moved one to a drawer just so she can hear Ava’s annoyed voice echo from inside her closet, _Sara, where the hell is Thursday?_ Her sweatshirts go missing all the time only to reappear days later, smelling faintly like her girlfriend. And she’s come to love the inevitable moment in the middle of most nights when she wakes up to Ava pressing back into her arms, shivering until the heat of Sara’s body makes her still and relaxed again. 

She’s always teased Ava about it, even found it endearing, but now it feels like the most serious thing in the world, and Sara feels a weight of overwhelming shame in her chest. 

_Nobody fucking kept you warm._

She leans over Ava, searching her face for life, for anything. Sara moves awkwardly to get herself onto the narrow bed and wraps an arm around her girlfriend’s back. She clasps her protectively to her chest, flinching at her freezing skin as she tries to force her own warmth into her blood. 

Zari comes back and the two of them get blankets tucked in around Ava and suddenly, there’s nothing left to do. The blood has stopped rushing in Sara’s ears and if she can’t quite feel Ava’s pulse, she can at least hear it beeping steadily on Gideon’s monitor. Her breath is a slow, pained rattle, but it’s breath and that’s all that matters. Sara is trying to remember how to breathe herself when she feels a gentle touch on her hands. 

“Sara. Hey. Don’t hold onto her so tight.” 

Zari has been milling about the whole time, making blankets and bandages appear when Sara needs them without intruding. Now her eyes are understanding and full of compassion as she pries Sara’s white knuckles away from where they’re digging into Ava’s bare back so hard she’s shaking.

She nods distantly and tries to relax, moving her hands to Ava’s cheeks. It’s hard to keep from weeping at the bone-melting relief of touching her again. It’s been too long, and she just wants to see her and talk to her again. Even with Ava in her arms, she misses her so much her chest hurts. 

She sits for what seems like hours, studying her up and down. Sara’s eyes are hungry for the sight of her, her arms craving the soft weight of her body.   
The only thing that helps Sara dispel the lingering combination of absolute rage and sickening panic is taking inventory of Ava: her eyes sunken in, face dirty, bloody hair and ribs prominent under where her hand rests. An angry red scratch across her jaw and onto her ear. Her lips are cracked and bleeding, too. All things to tend to once Gideon’s done with her and she’s free to take care of her in privacy. 

For now, she can only hold her and hope that somehow, in her oblivion, Ava knows she’s safe again. Gideon’s scattered updates startle her, someone brings Sara water and a snack that she takes gratefully, Ava’s body occasionally jerks against her as she fights complete unconsciousness. Sara rubs her back, hushing her without knowing whether she hears her or not. She's nearly drifting off herself when Gideon next speaks.

“Captain, if I might suggest, Director Sharpe will heal more easily if she’s less distressed and able to rest. I’d advise a sedative to keep her—”

Sara doesn’t hear the rest of what Gideon has to say. All she hears is a weak moan from the woman in her arms followed by a voice that’s gone unused for weeks—

“No. _No_ —” Ava’s eyes are still closed, but there she is—alive, aware, talking. Begging not to have her senses taken away. Not again. 

She’s gasping in bits of air as she blindly fumbles for whatever is on her arm that might steal her away from reality again. Sara feels nails digging into her arm and she’s not sure whether Ava is fighting her or clinging to her. She’s not sure which would break her heart more. 

Sara catches her hand, holding loosely so Ava doesn’t feel trapped. Her other hand goes to rest on Ava’s forehead and she tries to keep her voice even and calm.   
“Ava. Ava, listen. Listen to me.”  
Ava pushes Sara’s hand away and Sara lets her.  
“Listen. It’s ok, nothing you don’t want.” She covers the inside of Ava’s arm to keep Ava from pulling off the only thing keeping her hydrated. “Leave that. You’re safe. It’s me, won’t let anything happen that you don’t want, baby.”

She stays close to Ava, trying, _trying_ not to touch her because that’s what she needs, she needs space to let her mind catch up to where she is, but seeing her this wrecked has her heart crumbling inside her chest.

Once Ava has remembered how to breathe again, once her hands have stopped fighting and are back by her side, exhausted, shaking, Sara brushes fingertips over her wrist and covers her hand. “I’m here, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Ava winces and shuts her eyes against the brightness of the room. “Gideon, dim the lights?” Sara mumbles, stroking hair off of Ava’s face. 

It seems to take hours, but Ava eventually gets her eyes open, takes a look at Sara and all the tension in her depleted body falls away in a rush, leaving her nothing more than an exhausted heap. The relief feels like a tidal wave. If Sara were standing it would knock her off her feet. She finally feels emotion bubbling up in her chest, nowhere to go but out, and no matter how hard she pushes it down, she feels a sob starting in her gut and getting stuck in her throat. She’s not sure whether she’s going to cry or be sick. 

Ava's lost the very last of her energy and lays there, eyelids heavy, squeezing Sara’s hand reassuringly, rhythmically—the way she always does when they’re in public together. _Right here_ , it says. 

It seems to take hours before Ava closes her eyes again, breathes deeply and swallows hard. She brings one shaky hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

 _“Fuck.”_ Ava sounds more pissed off than anything, like she’d simply been woken up by a car alarm in the night, and a sharp, hysterical sort of laugh bursts out of Sara, closer to a sob than anything. “How long?” 

“Two weeks.” Sara cautiously reaches out, moving a lock of hair from Ava’s face and tucking it behind her ear. When Ava doesn’t startle or protest her touch, she does the same on the other side and then leaves her hand resting on her forehead again. 

“Jesus. How did—I was home when—"

“Just rest, it doesn’t matter right now.”

Ava stills, breathing a bit steadier. She nods in agreement and stays quiet, swallowing against what Sara assumes is nausea, if her own experiences have taught her anything. 

She doesn't know what finally breaks her--maybe it's just the realization that the real danger has passed and that Ava is ok, or maybe it's the way Ava keeps a hand on her every time she shuts her eyes, like she's making sure she's there--but Sara notices her own tears coming once it’s too late; her face has already crumpled and then she’s weeping, as quietly as she can. She just can’t help it. She hasn’t heard Ava’s voice or touched her skin in weeks and it’s like coming in from a storm. Coming home. She’s _home_. 

Ava’s eyes are closed, but no matter how hard she tries, there are loud catches in Sara's breath and occasional fat tears landing on Ava’s chest. 

“Don’t cry.” Ava’s hand reaches up blindly, looking for tears to clear away and instead jabs Sara somewhere near the eye. Sara nods with a shaky smile, holding Ava’s hand and using it to wipe her eyes before kissing her knuckles. 

“Sorry. Just missed you so much.” 

Ava seems to relax at that and she turns herself back onto her side, whimpering with pain, just to get back in Sara’s arms. She burrows in close and Sara holds her tight, like someone just gave her permission to breathe again. Ava responds with a soft kiss to her jaw that goes straight to her gut, squeezing pleasantly, reassuringly. It’s a comfort she thought she might never get back. 

“Don’t let go of me yet.”

“Never.” Sara tightens her arms, kissing her dirt-smudged forehead, then her temple, her cheek, her nose, her chapped lips. _“Never.”_


End file.
